


All My Thoughts

by Beanbogs



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Author Point Of View, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Depression, I Tried, I'm Going to Hell, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Sad, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, The Author Regrets Everything, Triggers, Useless Lesbians, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:28:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29221713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beanbogs/pseuds/Beanbogs
Summary: My thoughts that I think everyday.I'm sorry.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 2





	All My Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Suicidal thoughts, slight self harm, mentions of blood, blood loss, mentions of schizophrenia, depression, ADHD, Dyslexia, and a lot of cursing
> 
> You have been warned.

I feel like I’m suffocating.

_Worthless_

_Stupid_

_Fucking moron_

_I’m sorry_

Those are words I repeat to myself everyday. I hate life, but I also don’t want to die, either. Everyone is just too _stupid_ to realized that I changed a few years ago. Or maybe they just don’t care. In what goddamn world does anybody care? I would sit alone in my bed, fan blowing despite the frosty wonderland outside. I hate warm places, always have, always will. There are fewer things that bring me joy in life. I still love art and writing and reading, like a giant nerd, but I don’t enjoy it as much as I used to. Especially since it all became an escape for me.

_Kill yourself_

_There are demons here_

_I hate life_

_I don’t want to die_

_What happens when you die?_

_I’m sorry_

I think those words everyday and night, the same words as always. Not aloud, no, definitely not aloud. If I spoke the words, then my parents would take me to therapy, and no, I don’t want that. I don’t want help. I don’t _need_ help.

…

That drowning feeling. I feel it everytime I lay in bed and try to sleep, even for a minute. It feels like it’s getting harder to breathe with each breath, and that I’m not actually breathing but someone else-another me-is, and I can feel it still. But it’s not mine. I don’t know why I felt it like that. I was like I was feeling another person’s heartbeat but also my own. 

_Tie a ring around your neck_

_Life isn’t worth living if you’re not happy_

_Die_

_Jump off a cliff_

_That one time where you actually could have died on that cliff? You should have just let go of that pathetic branch, instead of let your ‘friends’ save you and actually help you._

_Die_

_Drown_

_I’m sorry_

I drown in my thoughts all the time, and I hate it. My imagination is very vivid, especially when I don’t sleep, which is almost always. I imagine voices and creatures and demons staring at me while I sleep, which makes me unable to. My covers are way too hot despite the fan always going full-blast.

The first time I tried reaching out was to my mom, when I felt like I was drowning. It was one a.m., and she didn’t respond. I told her my imagination was making the night seem like it wanted to swallow me whole, like I felt as if I would die that night. I don’t want to die, but everyone does. I heard noises all around me, suffocating me and not releasing their grip. No one came. I wanted my mom, who was downstairs on the couch to come rescue me from drowning, but she didn’t. No one did. That made me doubt myself.

_Loser_

_Bitch_

_Disgrace_

_Failure_

_No one will notice_

_No one ever does_

_Tie a pretty ribbon of rope around your neck_

_The demons will never go away_

_I’m sorry_

The first time I did it was about a month ago, and it was the only time so far. It was an accident, but glass broke in my hand, cutting me. I watched the blood trickle down my palm, flooding my hand with bitter red liquid. It didn’t help with the pain, and I wish it did. I didn’t tell my mom I did that. I lied and said my elder cat, Raphael, did. He was always kind of aggressive. I hate living, but I also don’t want to die. I sail alone on a boat of my own thoughts of hatred. Just sailing, trying not to drown, but sometimes the waves lap higher and higher, and some wash over me, suffocating me, and it feels like everything’s just too much. But I still keep sailing despite that.

I’m 51% sure I have schizophrenia. Why do I think this? Because, I learn about depression and anxiety and all those nasty thoughts in the world, and my imagination is too strong, and it feels like I have powers but also not, and it feels like I’m living in two separate worlds. I have my real self but also my fake one, the one I show in front of everyone, acting as if I’m actually okay and no, mom, I’m not depressed, I just made a presentation about it for health class. Why depression I chose? Because it interests me, that’s all. No reason in particular.

_No one cares_

_Die_

_Die_

_I hate myself_

_Kill me now_

_Not even your friends care_

_Die_

_I’m sorry_

I can’t tell anyone. I said I’ve wanted to die before, but everyone thinks it’s a joke. “Oh, it’s just her personality! She says she wants to die all the time! It’s _completely normal_.”

I hate living but I never want to die. I don’t deserve life though, and everything’s way too much here in the overworld. I am lesbian, but when I tried suggesting to my dad that I might be in the LGBTQIA Community, he waved it off and said, “you’re too young to know.” I’m fourteen fucking years old, and I’m the right age to know if I’m gay or not. I’m too young to be thinking about death and all the horrible things in this world though, right? No. I think I’m old enough to know if I embrace death, and I do, but I also don’t.

I hate feelings. And emotions. I hate my fucked up thoughts. I hate school, and I hate the near panic-attack I had the first day. I hate how I can’t communicate with people properly, and always stutter over my words when talking to others, especially when presenting. I hate how loud everything is and sometimes I wish I were deaf, so I could avoid those loud noises and the people and the demons. And maybe if I were deaf, I’d not be able to hear my thoughts. I hate how I think of ways to commit suicide nearly every night when I’m alone in my room. I hate how no one accepts me for who I really am, and I hate how I don't have the guts to hurt myself. No one would notice nor would they care. Bashing my head against stuff usually helps but I already have ADHD and Dyslexia and it’s painful already.

I just want the drowning to end.

**Author's Note:**

> My mental health has been very shitty lately. I keep having unwanted thoughts and just don't feel like living anymore. I have a fear of telling others about my real self, but I needed to get this out there. I know it sounds dumb, but I just can't anymore. Everything has been just...too much for me to handle.  
> I will continue my other stories, but since I just started high school a few months ago, I've been focusing more on grades and other things. I am failing nearly all my classes, though, but I just don't care anymore. I really don't.  
> I haven't been truly happy since about four or five years ago, when my best friend, who was a dog, died at the time. It was on a Wednesday when my mom was out for a week or two for work in like, England or something. Buddie, my dog, who was a ten-year-old beagle that was mostly abused for six years of his life in another 'home,' apparently had a tumor. The stupid and shitty thing was when the vets said that they didn't see it in time and it was too big to remove. Yes, y dog was suffocating. It was in his throat and the size of a baseball. It was the hardest time of my life, and that changed everything, like how I thought of out vets. They thought it was a fucking toothache at first, but it had to be a fucking tumor. He couldn't eat properly and we had to hand feed him people food, like turkey and the like. He was my best friend. The worst part was that after he had to be put down, of course I was sobbing my eyes out, and my elder brother demanded I stopped crying, and I was furious at him. I mean, Buddie was part of the family and my best friend, and he my brother had the fucking AUDACITY to tell me and my younger brother, who wasn't crying as hard as I, to stop fucking crying!? What the shit!? That dog, Buddie, shared the same birthday as I. I was the same age as him when he died (ten). I loved him more than anything and he fucking left me. I don't blame him, of course, and I have his dog tag on a chain bracelet I made, but it has affected me for five fucking years, and I can't seem to move on. What the fuck is wrong with me?
> 
> I then started feeling like that everything that happened was automatically my fault. That Buddie dying was my fault. I felt like a terrible person and still do. I'm scared to get tested for depression and schizophrenia, because while I doubt I have the second one only slightly, my 'symptoms' seem to match up with those of schizophrenia. And that also means I would have to tell my parents, and I can't have that happen. Because not only would I have ADHD and Dyslexia, but if I were correct, I would also have depression and schizophrenia.
> 
> I'm a fucking mess, and I don't know how much longer I can take it.  
> So I just wanted to say again,
> 
> I'm sorry.


End file.
